The Falcon and the Raven
by Kamayeth
Summary: Takes place after series 5. I thought it extremely unfair that Arthur had so little time to see Merlin as he really was. So I decided they needed more time together.
1. Chapter 1

_*Takes place after series 5. I thought it extremely unfair that Arthur had so little time to see Merlin as he really was. So I decided they needed more time together. I intended this to be a series of episodic stories, much like the show, but it kind of took on a life of its own and grew into one grand adventure. I hope you enjoy it._

It had been many months since the Battle of Camlann. Arthur had healed well, although his training had yet to return to its previous intensity. Merlin secretly wondered if it ever would, but his king, and friend, was alive and that's all that really mattered. Arthur's victory had won him the undying loyalty of his subjects and allies, and Camelot, indeed the whole of Albion, was flourishing under his reign.

For his part, Merlin had found himself suddenly elevated from manservant to Court Sorcerer, responsible for assisting Arthur with all things magical. The only problem had been that every time Arthur came to him for advice, Merlin would end up on tangents, his logic getting lost down rabbit holes, leaving him rambling on about improbable hypotheticals and Arthur no closer to an answer than when they'd started.

Finally, one evening while the two were working out some finer points of the new magical laws, Arthur threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

"Fine! You know what? _Fine_!" He pushed all the rolls of parchment across the table to Merlin and gave him a pointed look.

"_You_ handle it."

And he'd walked out, leaving the warlock staring, dumbfounded, after him.

And so, with that rather inauspicious beginning, their joint rule as High King and High Sorcerer began.

Now they wandered Camelot's busy marketplace, bantering and reminiscing and generally keeping an eye on things. As they strolled between the merchant's stalls, Merlin began to feel troubled. The day seemed less bright, the noise of the crowd more threatening than cheerful. There was a sense of being trapped. And lonely.

He was starting to become well and truly alarmed by the black despair building inside him when he and Arthur came within earshot of a large, burly man boasting loudly to the butcher. Merlin put a hand on Arthur's arm, and they stopped at a stall that provided a clear view of the man. They pretended to inspect a collection of warding charms, and watched.

"Yes, yes, I know it's legal now. Bad decision, if you ask me. Not that I've ever had to worry about it. See, I've managed to _beat_ the magic out of my little sprite, here."

He gestured toward a girl, a few years into adolescence, and she flinched.

And Merlin understood. The fear. The sadness. The despair. It was all coming from _her_. There was something going on here, something bad, and Merlin decided he needed to get to the bottom of it.

Arthur broke into his thoughts. "I didn't think that was even possible, to beat the magic out of someone."

Merlin shook his head. "It's not." He considered the girl. "I think she might be a druid. I'm going to try to talk to her."

"How? I'm guessing that brute won't let you get within a league of her."

"We're already within a league of her."

Arthur rolled his eyes. For all his elevated status and responsibilities and _magic_, Merlin could still be incredibly obtuse. "It's a figure of speech, Merlin. You'll never get close enough for her to hear you."

"I don't have to be close for her to hear me."

"I don't recommend shouting."

Now it was Merlin's turn to roll his eyes. "I don't have to shout. I can talk to her with my mind."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up. "You can talk to people with your mind."

"Not everyone. Just druids."

Arthur stared at him. "The wonders just never cease with you, do they?"

Merlin grinned. "Not today."

Arthur nodded at the pair, who were now heading away from the butcher's. "Well, you'd better hurry. She's getting away."

Merlin grabbed his arm and they followed the pair at a prudent distance.

'_Hello?'_

The girl's head turned slightly.

Merlin continued, _'It looks like you may be in trouble, and I'd like to help, if I can.'_

Her mental voice was cautious. _'Who are you?'_

'_My name is Merlin. The druids know me as Emrys.'_

That stopped her dead in her tracks. He could see her carefully searching the crowd for him.

'_Emrys?'_ His heart ached at the sudden, desperate hope that colored her thoughts. _'His ring! Can you get-'_

'_Look out!'_

But his warning came too late. The man, realizing she was no longer following, had returned and he cuffed her, hard.

"Quit'cher lollygaggin', girl!" he bellowed.

She nodded obediently, holding a hand to her head, and moved off after him.

'_Are you alright?'_

'_Yeah. That wasn't too bad.'_

Her words chilled him.

'_Can you get me away from him?'_

'_I'm thinking. We can't just swoop in and grab you, or it'll look like a kidnapping instead of a rescue.'_

'_A rescue…'_ She was quiet a moment. _'I have an idea. Get ready.'_

He didn't even have time to formulate a response before he saw her stumble. She tried to catch herself on a cart of apples, but only managed to pull it over, spilling fruit over herself and across the path.

The sound drew the man's attention and his face contorted with rage at the sight of her next to the toppled cart. "STUPID GIRL!" He reached over, grabbed an arm and jerked her upright hard enough that she shrieked in pain. A backhand to her face left her crumpled in an unmoving heap on the ground.

The man was aiming a kick at her when he suddenly found a lanky, black-haired young man pulling desperately at his shirt.

"Leave her alone!"

The man shoved and Merlin, losing his footing on the apples, fell hard against the cart, his head making and audible _thump_.

"Ow."

And then the man found the point of a sword against his throat. His eyes widened at the king and the market guards who were starting to gather.

"My liege," he stammered. "I was… was just…"

The sword pressed in and the words died.

Arthur's look was distasteful. "Yes, it seems you were _just_," he gestured around him, "making a scene in my marketplace," his eyes went to the girl, "beating an innocent child senseless, and," he checked to make sure Merlin was still functional, "assaulting my sorcerer."

The man's face paled visibly.

Arthur, satisfied that he'd gotten his point across (pun _entirely_ intended), sheathed his sword. "Put him in the dungeon," he instructed, then turned to haul Merlin out of the apples, only to find the warlock already crouched anxiously over the girl.

"She's breathing."

He gathered her gently into his arms and strode toward the castle, Arthur on his heels.

Within moments, they burst into Gaius' chambers. One look at the pair of them, and the girl in Merlin's arms, brought him to his feet in alarm.

"What happened?"

Merlin laid her down and explained while Gaius examined her. By the end of the story, the warlock was pacing in agitation.

"She's a druid, Gaius." He turned and paced the other way. "And he was five times her size, at least." Turn, pace. "How could he do that to her?" Turn, pace. "He could've _killed_ her." Turn, pace, stop. His eyebrows drew together, remembering. "She said something about a ring."

"Merlin."

His name drew him out of his thoughts and he turned his attention to the physician.

"She's going to be fine, but her shoulder is dislocated."

"Can you fix it?"

"With your help."

"What do I do?"

"I'm going to reduce the swelling, then I need you to hold her while I reseat the joint."

"Right."

Gaius placed his hands on the girl's shoulder and his eyes blazed amber. Then, with Merlin bracing from the other side, he pushed and twisted until the joint popped back into place. He ran a finger gently over the bruise that was beginning to purple across the girl's cheek. "It escapes me how anyone could so mistreat a child."

Arthur spoke. "Rest assured, the man responsible is in my dungeons and will see justice for it."

"Well, then things may be looking up for her."

'_Emrys.'_

The girl was awake and regarding Merlin out of dark, serious eyes.

'_Thank you.'_

'_Of course. And it's all right to speak. You're safe here.'_

'_I can't. That man has an enchanted ring. As long as he wears it, I am his thrall. He has forbidden me to speak to anyone but him.'_

'_But you can communicate with me since you're not technically speaking.'_

The corner of her mouth rose in a half-smile. _'Exactly.'_

Merlin nodded. _'What's your name?'_

'_Branwen.'_

'_We're going to help you, Branwen. Don't worry.'_

He turned to find two pairs of questioning eyes on him.

"He's enslaved her with magic," he explained. "He has a ring that controls her."

Arthur, ever practical, said, "Well, I'll just go down to the dungeons and retrieve it."

'_That won't work.'_

"Wait," Merlin said, stopping Arthur at the door, then asked the girl, "Why won't it work?"

'_The spell can only be broken in two ways. He has to either remove the ring of his own will or…' _she hesitated. _'… he has to die.'_

Merlin relayed this information.

The king nodded. "There's no time to lose, then."

Merlin's mouth fell open. "Arthur, you're not planning on killing him!"

"No, idiot. Not unless I have no other choice. I meant that we have no reason to delay his trial and every reason to resolve it quickly."

"Oh. Right."

Arthur shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder if there's anything at all in that head of yours."

He crossed over to the girl, who was watching them with very wide eyes. He knelt down beside her. "I know you're injured, but do you think you might be up to helping us?"

She nodded solemnly.

He patted her knee, noting uncomfortably how bony it was. "Good. The trial will be tomorrow morning, first thing. Get some rest," he added gently.

He rose and made to leave, but when Merlin seemed disinclined to follow, he backtracked, grabbed his arm, and dragged him out, leaving the girl in Gaius' capable hands.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you to everyone for the follows and reviews! I'm editing chapters as quickly as I can and hope to get them up in fairly quick succession. Thank you for your patience!_

Gaius brought his charge to the throne room, settling himself and her in chairs off to the side, where they could watch the proceedings, while being apart from the crowd. Arthur, Merlin, and Guinevere were already present, and Gwen's hands flew to her mouth at the sight of the girl with her bruised face and her arm in a sling.

After they were seated, the prisoner was brought in. It took five men to wrestle him to his knees before Arthur and Merlin.

The king began without preamble. "Yesterday you were arrested because you left an innocent unconscious in my marketplace and visited bodily harm upon the High Sorcerer. Either of these offenses would earn you further time in the dungeons, but it has since come to my attention that dark magic is also involved."

"My king," the man laughed nervously, "I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth."

"That remains to be seen. Remove your ring."

At this, the man's head snapped around and he snarled at Branwen. "You BRAT!" He struggled to rise, but the guards held him down. He fixed a mutinous stare on Arthur, who returned it coolly.

"I'll not ask again."

For a moment, Merlin thought the man wouldn't comply, but then he removed the ring with an angry jerk and held it out to the king. Arthur shook his head. "Give it to her," he instructed, nodding in Branwen's direction.

The girl's eyes went wide and she looked to Merlin for confirmation. At his encouraging nod, she rose and stepped over to where the guards surrounded the prisoner. The man glared daggers at her, but dropped the trinket into her trembling hand with no more than an irritated huff.

The girl snatched her hand back and retreated several steps, clutching the ring to her. She addressed Merlin. "My Lord Sorcerer, if it pleases you, I ask that you grant me a moment's indulgence."

He nodded, curious as to what she would do. He watched closely, leaning in a little as she chanted an incantation, gold flickering through her eyes before she closed them. At first, nothing appeared to happen, but then she seemed to blur a bit around the edges. Her features went indistinct and she grew several inches before her form solidified and regained its detail.

The adolescent had faded away, leaving a young woman standing in her place. She was barefoot and her dress was far too small, but she stood straight and dignified. She turned to the man and he shrank away from her, his eyes full of fear. The throne room was utterly silent as she regarded him, unsure of what she might do.

In the end, she simply turned away, as if it was beneath her to give him any further consideration.

She dropped a curtsey to Merlin. "Thank you."

Merlin was dumbfounded, not only by the girl's transformation, but also by how much she reminded him of Freya. The dark, tangled hair, pale skin, and deep, cautious eyes were nearly identical. Branwen's face had more roundness to it, though, and she was shorter. Much, _much_ shorter. It occurred to him that she must have been under the influence of the youth spell for so long that it might have stunted her growth.

Arthur's insistent, "Merlin!" brought him abruptly out of his thoughts.

"Sorry. What?"

"Since this crime is magical in nature, it falls under your authority."

"Right." He addressed Branwen. "I'm sorry, but I need to ask you some questions."

"Of course."

"How did you come to be under this man's spell? Is he a sorcerer?"

"I've not seen any evidence that he knows magic, my lord. He already had the ring when he came to my grandmother's cottage. He," she swallowed, "killed her and used the spell on me."

Merlin felt a flare of anger. "How old were you?"

"I was eight."

"And how old are you now?"

"I'm nineteen."

A murmur ran through the room.

Merlin pressed on. "If he has no magic, where did the youth spell originate?"

"With me, my lord."

"He made you cast it on yourself?"

She nodded.

"For what purpose?"

He watched her eyes fill with fear and a deep blush creep across her cheeks. She tried to stammer out an reply, but he held out a hand against the intensity of her reaction. "It's alright. You don't have to answer." He looked at her captor, and the leer on the man's face told him all he needed to know. The flame of anger grew.

He addressed the man, keeping his rage in careful check. "You have enslaved an innocent by means of dark magic. I fear that, if left to your own devices, you will do the same to another. I won't allow lives to be put at risk in Camelot, or any other kingdom. I therefore have no choice but to sentence you to death."

With an enraged bellow, the man threw off the guards and charged, not at Merlin, but at Branwen. She danced away, but the man still managed to grab her injured arm. She screamed and Merlin, grateful to have an outlet for his anger, took action. He made a forceful gesture, his eyes flashing gold, and the man fell dead, dragging Branwen down to the floor with him.

Merlin rushed to her side, releasing her from the dead man and helping her to her feet. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, but Merlin had the distinct impression the gesture was more habit than truth. He put an arm around her and guided her back to Gaius, who immediately inspected the damage. With the flash of his eyes, her pinched expression eased and Merlin breathed a little easier.

"Well," Arthur announced quietly, "I think we're done here for the day. I believe we all need some time to… recover from this unfortunate incident."

Walking over to Merlin he asked, "Are _you_ alright?"

The enormity of what he'd just done was starting to hit him, but he tried to smile. "This didn't really turn out the way I expected it to."

Arthur squeezed his shoulder. "It happens. You did the right thing, though. Your decision was sound."

"Thanks."

Merlin turned his attention back to Branwen. She was staring at the body, and was fidgeting anxiously with the ring.

He stepped in front of her, blocking her view. Feeling the need to redirect her attention, he asked, "What will you do now?"

It took her a heartbeat to focus on him. "I don't know." She stopped twirling the ring and seemed to truly see it for the first time. She slid it on and, with a brief incantation, the ring fit itself to her finger.

Gaius leaned forward, brows drawing together. "I've not seen a spell like that before."

"Oh." She seemed flustered. "Well, before she… died, my grandmother was teaching me spellcrafting. She said I had the gift. I guess… I guess I just needed to see if that was still true."

Gaius' eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. "Spellcrafting! I thought that art died out in the Great Purge."

"Really?" She glanced at the body being carried out of the chamber. "Maybe that's why he targeted us."

"What's spellcrafting?" Merlin asked.

"It's exactly what it sounds like, my boy. Every major spell that exists was created by a spellcrafter. Some of the more complex ones took years to perfect. It's an uncommon gift." He smiled at Branwen, and she smiled shyly back, the first real smile Merlin had seen from her.

"Do you have any knowledge of herb lore?" Gaius asked.

"A little."

He nodded. "How would you like to be my assistant? My previous boy got himself promoted to High Sorcerer and I haven't been able to find a suitable replacement."

"Well, that was quite rude of him."

There was a moment of startled, unsure silence until her ghost of a smile drew answering grins from the men.

Gaius chuckled. "Yes, very rude indeed."

Merlin shook his head. "There's just no pleasing some people."

Branwen laughed, and Merlin smiled, liking the sound. She told Gaius, "I think I would very much like to be your assistant."

"Wonderful! It's settled then. You can have _his_ old room."

They were interrupted by the approach of Guinevere.

"Might I borrow Branwen for a while?"

Gaius cast a concerned eye over his new assistant. "May I ask what for, my lady?"

"Well, I was thinking a hot bath, clothes that fit and," she winced at the mat of tangles on Branwen's head, "a new hairdo, perhaps? If that's alright with you, of course."

Gaius smiled. "I think all of those will do her a world of good."


	3. Chapter 3

In the weeks following the trial, Merlin saw more and more of Branwen as she learned her way around the castle and Gaius increased her responsibilities. The sight of her always made him smile, but every smile brought a pang of guilt, as if he was betraying Freya's memory.

Even so, he started spending more time near the routes she frequented, and finding excuses to be in Gaius' chambers as often as he could. Branwen was courteous with him, but kept him at arm's length, which assuaged his guilt somewhat.

He liked simply being near her. He liked the easy way she used her magic, the way she hummed softly while she worked, the way her spells became songs, tuned to whatever melody was in her mind at the time. The way a dimple peeked out at him when she smiled. The way her raven's-wing hair fell down her back like a waterfall. Her daintiness. Her smell.

And always, at the edges of his mind and heart, the guilt. The conflict was driving him to distraction.

And Arthur, at last, couldn't take it anymore.

They were walking through the corridors and Arthur was trying to have a conversation with his sorcerer. He felt like he would have better luck talking to one of the pillars. He snapped his fingers in front of his friend's face. "Merlin!"

"Sorry. What?"

"Would you quit _fawning_ already and just talk to her?"

Merlin feigned ignorance. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Branwen, idiot! It's obvious to absolutely everyone that you like her, and just as obvious that she likes you, too."

"It's not obvious to me."

"Aha! You admit it!" He smiled triumphantly at Merlin's scowl. "You know, she watches you every bit as much as you watch her."

"I've never seen her watching me."

"Well, she _is_ very good at hiding it. Much better than you. Of course, you're terrible, so that's not saying much."

Merlin gave him a look.

"Listen, I'm tired of seeing you mooning about. You're distracted to the point of uselessness, and I simply cannot have that. Go talk to her."

"Fine, I will," Merlin agreed, more to end the conversation than from any true intention of doing so.

Arthur seemed to sense this. "In fact, you'll go talk to her _now_."

Merlin's eyebrows rose. "Is that an order?"

"Does it need to be?"

"You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?"

Merlin stared at Arthur, who stared amiably back.

The staring contest ended when the warlock rolled his eyes. "Fine."

Arthur clapped him on the back. "Good man."

"Yeah. If she burns be to a crisp, though, it's your fault."

The king considered that.

"Agreed."

Merlin shook his head and headed toward the physician's chambers.

When he arrived, Gaius was poring over one of his many books, but looked up as he entered. Merlin scanned the room. "Is Branwen here?" he asked.

"No." Realization dawned on the physician's face and he brightened. "Finally going to talk to her, are you?"

Merlin let out an exasperated sigh. "Does _everyone_ know?"

"Oh, was it a secret?"

"Well, yeah. Kind of."

"Hm. Well, you weren't terribly subtle about it. I sent Branwen to collect feverfew."

"Thanks."

"Good luck!"

When Merlin arrived at the edge of the woods, he realized he had no idea where to go. He almost turned back, but the thought of what Arthur might say, or, worse, _do_ made the idea evaporate. Then he remembered the king's words. "She likes you, too."

He closed his eyes and let his mind fill with thoughts of her. He breathed an incantation and opened his eyes to see a glowing trail leading through the trees. He followed it, wondering how far she had gone in search of herbs.

The answer, it turned out, was really quite far. The walk gave him time to think through the situation. Was his guilt really justified? Would Freya begrudge him the chance to be happy? To be loved? He thought back to the all-too-brief time they'd had together, remembered her kindness of spirit despite the curse, and had to believe she wouldn't. It occurred to him that she might even like Branwen.

First things first, though.

The trail at last ended at a patch of calendula, Branwen crouched among the golden blooms, carefully harvesting them to add to the feverfew and violets in her basket. She was humming again, and he stood for several heartbeats, transfixed.

Flowers. Girls liked flowers. He needed _flowers_. He glanced around. The only blossoms anywhere near him were some dandelions. He plucked a handful as quietly as he could and cast a spell. The flowers grew, petals stretching and curling into something ridiculously exotic looking.

Perfect.

He cleared his throat and she started a little. She rose quickly and dropped him a respectful curtsey. "My lord sorcerer."

He gave an embarrassed little laugh. "You really don't have to call me that. 'Merlin' is fine."

She seemed uncertain, but said, "Alright. Is there anything I can assist you with… Merlin?"

He smiled at the way she said his name, then realized she was watching him expectantly. He shook his head a little and took a breath, but he couldn't find the words he wanted. He cast about helplessly, painfully aware of Branwen's eyes on him. He finally thrust the flowers toward her and blurted, "I like you."

He watched her eyes widen and a blush creep across her cheeks as she accepted the blossoms. He stammered on, "Um, and I think we should… I mean, I'd really like it if we could be… together."

She glanced at him before focusing again on the flowers. "I… appreciate the sentiment, but," she shook her head, "we can't."

His face fell. "Why?"

Her fingers traced the improbable curves of the flowers. "You deserve better than me."

He was not expecting that. Since coming into his new position, he'd had his fair share of flirty giggles and batted eyelashes tossed his way. It had all just made him uncomfortable. But now he'd found someone who _didn't_ make him uncomfortable. Someone who made him smile with just her presence. Someone who was like him, who understood him.

And she thought she wasn't good enough.

He would just have to convince her otherwise.

She was walking away from him and he dashed to catch up.

"Is this because you're of common birth? Because that's not a problem at all. So am I. So is Gwen, and she's the queen!"

"It's not that."

He put a hand on her arm, stopping her. "Then what is it?"

She looked up at him. "Just because you weren't born into a noble family doesn't change the fact that there's nobility in you. You are just as much a king as Arthur. You deserve someone who's pure. Innocent." She turned away. "And I am not."

Oh.

_Oh._

He thought back to the trial, and the implications became clear.

"I don't care about that," he told her.

"You should."

He turned her gently and lifted her chin with his finger until she met his eyes. "I don't."

Her eyes filled with tears and he thought he'd convinced her until she jerked away.

"You don't understand."

"_What_ don't I understand?"

She turned her back to him, but didn't move away. It was several moments before she spoke.

"That… man… did _vile_ things to me. He made _me_ do vile things. But," she hesitated and Merlin waited patiently for her continue. "But there were times when I took pleasure in those vile things. Times when I craved them. Sought them out." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I begged for them." Tears ran down her face and she wiped them away impatiently. "I don't deserve someone like you."

She walked away, leaving Merlin frozen in stunned silence, his heart breaking for her. His eyes followed her until she was out of sight, and then he began pacing in frustrated circles. The thought of that enormous man visiting his twisted desires on someone so delicate, and so kind… he shook his head to dispel the images and the fury. As much as he wished he could resurrect the man and kill him again, slowly and painfully, he couldn't. All he could do was try to make her see that what had happened to her didn't change the way he felt about her.

He _had_ to try again. His pacing straightened out and took him in the direction she'd gone.

When he caught up with her, she was standing stock-still on a gentle rise, her hands over her mouth.

"Branwen?"

Her eyes strayed to him briefly before returning to whatever had captured her attention.

He came up beside her and saw, on the other side of the rise, a unicorn mare drinking from a stream, a foal on either side of her. Merlin's jaw dropped. It was rare enough for the creatures to breed, but twins were unheard of. He breathed out a whisper of a laugh. This _had_ to be a good sign.

The three raised their heads at the sound and three pairs of eyes scrutinized the humans. The mare dipped her horn in Merlin's direction and he nodded back. The foals, apparently interpreting the gesture as permission, trotted over to him. He rubbed their heads, grinning ear to ear, and they promptly knocked him down, the better to sprawl on him.

He heard a delicate snort and looked up to find the mare standing in front of Branwen. The girl had her eyes lowered and was visibly trembling and Merlin suddenly had a very, very bad feeling. He tried to stand, but the foals had him pinned and they refused to budge. All he could do was watch and hope he wasn't forced to make an impossible choice.

The unicorn lowered her horn and pointed it at Branwen's heart, the girl seemingly resigned to whatever fate the creature should choose to mete out. The horn came to rest, gently, on Branwen's chest and the girl's head snapped up, her mouth falling open. They remained that way for several long heartbeats, and then the unicorn stepped back.

Branwen seemed unsure of what had just happened, but she timidly lifted a hand toward the mare, sobbing when the soft nose thrust itself into it. She stroked down the unicorn's face, then wrapped her arms gingerly around her neck, and the unicorn pressed into the embrace.

Branwen broke. She wept into the mare's softness, wept for her lost childhood, her stolen innocence, for every night she had wished to die. She wept for every harsh word, every bruise, every despicable act visited upon her.

And she wept for her redemption.

At last, the sobbing tapered off into sniffs and hiccups. The unicorn pulled away and pushed the girl gently to the ground, then laid her head on Branwen's lap with a contented sigh.

The foals scrambled to their feet to be with their mother and Merlin also rose, wiping his eyes on his sleeve before making his way over as well.

He lowered himself to sit next to Branwen. She shook her head in wonder, still stroking the mare. "I can't believe this is happening. I never thought that a unicorn would ever come to _me_."

Merlin reached out to fondle a foal's ear, smiling at how it twitched under his touch. "They are full of surprises."

They sat quietly for a while, simply reveling in the magic of the moment.

Branwen eventually broke the silence. "Merlin, I think… I think I'd like to take you up on your offer, if it still stands."

He beamed at her. "Of course it does." He cupped her cheek and ran his thumb affectionately over her skin.

The kiss they shared was soft, and sweet, and innocent.

_A/N: I have a confession. I also thought it extremely unfair that Arthur should have Gwen and Merlin no one. So I fixed that, too. Because I'm generous that way. ;) Thank you again for all the follows, favorites, and encouraging reviews. You all are too, too kind._


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Sorry it took a little longer to post this chapter. I had to do some major tweaking before I was happy with it. (On a side note, I edit and proof everything myself, so if you find any errors, please let me know.) And, again, thank you for all the positive feedback. I'm so glad you're enjoying my little tale!_

After their encounter with the unicorns, Merlin and Branwen became nearly inseparable. When they were together, they had eyes only for each other. When they had to be apart, both of them were daydreamy and distracted.

Arthur wasn't entirely sure this was an improvement. He decided the two needed some focus and announced that they would both help train the knights in magical combat.

"Arthur, I really don't think that's a good idea."

The king looked indignant. "It's a _fine_ idea, Merlin. My men need practice defending against magical attacks."

"But Arthur-"

"Merlin, my mind is made up. We begin tomorrow morning."

The warlock sighed, knowing better than to argue when Arthur took that tone. "Alright."

The next morning, the knights arrayed themselves against Merlin and Branwen.

"Sire, are you sure about this?" Leon asked, eyeing the unarmed pair uncertainly.

"Yes, I'm sure. _Why_ is everyone questioning my judgment on this?" He pitched his voice to carry to the rest of the group, "Alright men, be ready for anything. The only instruction I've given to them is that there should be no serious injuries." He lifted his hand. "Ready?" His hand remained in the air for a tense moment, then dropped. The knights charged.

Their targets went to work. Merlin focused, allowing his will alone to power his spells, while Branwen shouted incantations.

It was over in a matter of minutes, and the two surveyed their handiwork.

Merlin had broken every single shield.

Branwen had apparently panicked a bit at the sight of Percival bearing down on them, since he and several nearby knights were wrapped tightly in vines that had erupted under their feet.

There was a group of knights trailing dreamily after strangely glowing butterflies, and another was held at bay by an enormous, semi-transparent horse that snorted blue flames at anyone that moved.

Gwaine had tried a solo sortie against the two, but Branwen had seen him. Now he was at the weapons rack, flirting extravagantly with a mace.

And in the middle of it all stood a stunned and speechless Arthur.

"Oops," Branwen whispered to Merlin, and they both let out a snort of laughter.

"I did try to warn him."

She nodded. "Do you think we overdid it?"

He looked around, surveying the chaos. "Nah." He grinned at her and they both broke into a fit of giggles.

"I can't believe you broke _every_ shield. That's impressive."

"Thanks! I like the thing you've got going on with Gwaine."

She smiled impishly. "Well, the mace _is_ quite attractive."

Another fit of laughter was cut short by Arthur stalking over to them. "You two," he growled.

"Yes, sire?" Merlin's voice cracked and nearly sent them over the edge again.

Arthur pointed at the warlock. "Don't 's_ire'_ me." He gestured to the mess. "Fix this."

"Yes, Arthur," Merlin grinned.

"And _don't_ tell me 'I told you so'."

"Even if it's true?"

The retort that Arthur was formulating was interrupted by a messenger who ran up to him. "The council is requesting your attendance immediately, sire." The air of grave urgency he carried was not lost on any of them.

Arthur nodded and thanked the boy, then instructed Merlin, "Send Leon, Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival to the council chamber as soon as they're," he looked helplessly at the men, "able."

Merlin's smile had evaporated. "Right."

The knights were released from the spells and sent on their way, the shields were repaired, and the grounds set to rights.

Once the training field was restored to its former condition, Merlin offered his arm to Branwen. "My lady?"

She took it with a coy tilt of her head. "My lord."

"Allow me to walk you home?"

She smiled. "You don't have to do that."

"It's on my way."

She laughed, "It is _not_ on your way."

"It is today."

"Indeed?" She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Very well. That's quite chivalrous of you."

"I thought so."

She bumped him playfully. "You're such a brat."

"Oh, you know you love it."

She sighed dramatically. "I suppose I do."

When they arrived at the physician's chambers, they found Gaius frantically paging through his medical books. A woman was lying, still as death, on the pallet.

"Gaius, what's wrong?"

He turned to them, looking relieved. "I'm glad you're here. This woman is very ill, but I can't determine the cause. Merlin, would you hand me that book up there?"

While Merlin went to help, Branwen inspected the woman. The malady was unlike anything she'd ever seen before. Rather than a fever, the woman's brow was cold to the touch. She was pale and, but for the slow rise and fall of her chest, appeared well and truly dead.

As Branwen's gaze traveled down the woman's form, looking for clues, her eyes caught on her bracelet. The design was unusual and Branwen moved closer to inspect it. The intricate markings etched in the surface drew her in and, almost without thinking, she reached out and touched it.

A shock of icy cold shot up her arm and through her body. It constricted her chest and set her heart pounding. Darkness gathered at the edges of her vision and began to creep inward. She gasped for breath and tried to pull away, but she couldn't lift her finger from the bracelet. She tried to think, to concentrate, but the cold slowed her thoughts. She fought against it and, finally, her mind found a solution. She whispered a few words and was suddenly stumbling backwards.

She found herself shivering in Merlin's arms. The look in his eyes bordered on panic.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded. "I think so."

Gaius' concerned face loomed behind Merlin's. "What happened?"

Branwen nodded toward the woman. "It's her bracelet. There's a curse on it."

"A curse? If that's the case, then I'm afraid I'm at a loss of how to help her."

"I can break it."

"Really?" Merlin asked. "How?"

She shrugged. "I'm a spellcrafter. Now that I know what the curse does, I can figure out how to undo it."

"Are you sure?" Gaius asked.

"I'm sure. I just need a little time to work it out."

At that moment, a messenger burst through the door.

"My Lord Sorcerer, the king requires your presence immediately."

"I'm coming." He cupped Branwen's face. "I have to go. Are you sure you're alright?"

She nodded and gave him a small, reassuring smile. He kissed her forehead and followed the messenger.

When he arrived, Arthur was deep in conversation with a patrol which, by all indications, had ridden for Camelot in a hurry. He went to Arthur's side.

"What is it? What's happened?"

Arthur was grim. "There's trouble in some or our outlying villages. Crops are failing and people and livestock are getting sick."

One of the patrolmen spoke up. ""The illness is strange, my lords. Those affected look dead, though they still live."

Merlin's eyes widened in recognition. "Arthur, Gaius has a patient like that right now."

"Show us."

When Merlin returned with Arthur and the patrolman in tow, they found the woman still on the pallet, and Branwen pacing the room, deep in thought.

The patrolman approached the cot and nodded. "This is exactly like what we've seen."

"Do we know what's causing it?" Arthur asked the room in general.

Merlin answered, "Branwen says the woman's bracelet is cursed. She was affected by it as well for a moment. She's working on a counterspell."

Arthur's eyes went to the pacing figure. "She can break the curse?"

"She believes so."

The patrolman looked more closely at the piece of jewelry. "One of the men had a bauble very much like that on a cord around his neck." His brow furrowed as he called up another memory. "And a woman had something like it in her hair."

That got Branwen's attention. "Wait. You mean there are _more_ of these out there?"

"So it would seem, miss."

She sighed. "That's not good. This curse is more complicated than others I've seen. I've got something that should work, though."

Merlin wasn't sure he liked the sound of 'should' and he watched her carefully as her hand hovered over the bracelet and she began her incantation. It was long, and the trinket began to hiss and crackle halfway through, but Branwen took no notice. On the last syllable, her eyes flashed amber. The bracelet sparked in protest, then broke in half. Branwen collected the pieces as the woman's eyes fluttered open.

Gaius helped the woman sit up and looked her over carefully. "How are you feeling?"

The woman seemed mystified by her abrupt recovery. "I feel… fine."

"Where did you get that bracelet?" Arthur asked.

"It was a gift from my sister. She came to visit from the country."

"Is she still here?"

"No, sire. She went home this morning. She left the gift for me to find after she was gone."

"Did she harbor any ill will toward you?"

"Oh, no, sire. I'm sure she had no idea there was anything wrong with it."

Arthur nodded, satisfied with her answers. "It seems yours is not an isolated incident," he told her. "I'm sorry your gift was damaged. Unfortunately, we need to keep the pieces as evidence, but we can return them to you once this is resolved."

"That's very generous, sire, but please keep them. I doubt I'll want to see them again."

"Very well. You're free to go."

After the woman left, Arthur thanked and dismissed the patrolman, then turned to Merlin.

"We need to get to the bottom of this. Be ready to ride out at first light." His glance shifted to include Branwen. "Both of you."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Sorry again for the slight delay on this chapter. I've started doing most of my editing on my breaks at work, where I don't have a seven-year-old making an adorable nuisance of herself in my immediate vicinity. As always, you've all been so generous with your follows, favorites, and feedback. Thank you!_

The first day's ride out of Camelot was uneventful, mostly because Merlin's reputation had reached near-legendary proportions and no bandits dared attack.

This meant that most of the day was spent listening to Gwaine complain, often and at length, of boredom.

Until Percival noticed something. "Since when do you use a mace?" he asked, gesturing to the weapon hanging from Gwaine's saddle.

"Oh. Well. Just… I just thought I should broaden my, um, skillset." He urged his horse to the front of the line, where he quietly took up a position just behind Arthur.

Merlin, bringing up the rear with Branwen, shot her a confused look, but she shook her head in denial. She craned her neck to see exactly _which_ mace Gwaine was carrying, then stifled a snicker, eyes shining.

Merlin tilted his head. "It's not… _that_ mace, is it?" he whispered to her.

Branwen folded over the pommel of her saddle, shoulders shaking in silent giggles. All she could do was nod.

"And you didn't…"

She shook her head, still unable to sit up.

Merlin bit his lip, then hid his mouth behind his hand, trying to look anywhere but at her, resisting her contagious laughter as long as he could.

Which wasn't very long at all.

If the knights noticed the strangled sounds coming from the pair that trailed further and further behind them, they were kind enough not to mention it.

It wasn't until early afternoon the next day that someone dared challenge them.

The group was travelling through a pleasant, shady grove when men dropped out of the overhanging branches, startling the horses and pulling a few of the knights off their mounts.

The air was filled with the clashing of swords and the shouting of spells, but as soon as one wave of enemies was vanquished, another took its place. Arthur's group, while superior in combat and magic, was being overcome by sheer numbers.

No one noticed the shadowy figure pressed against the trunk of a tree a little way from the battle. No one saw the bow strung with a specially-prepared arrow. No one saw the bowstring drawn and held until the perfect moment before the arrow flew, the figure pausing only long enough to confirm the hit before melting away into the shadows to observe the aftermath.

When his back slammed against a tree, Merlin thought someone had run into him in the heat of the battle. As he looked around, though, he realized no one was close enough to have bumped him. It was only when he tried to step away, and couldn't, that he noticed the fletching of an arrow protruding from his shoulder.

Suddenly, the sounds of battle seemed very far away and the arrow drew his complete attention. The grain of the wood and the softly curving filaments of the feathers came into sharp focus. He brought his hand up to touch it, but his trembling fingers never quite seemed to reach it. There was a strange whooshing sound and he vaguely realized that his breath was coming in uneven gasps.

Faintly, he heard Arthur shout his name, echoed by Branwen, but he couldn't take his eyes off of the arrow.

He reached for his magic, but it slithered away from him. He couldn't get a grip on it, couldn't make it obey.

His legs began to shake and his foot shifted out from under him, bringing part of his weight down on the arrow. Fire erupted in his shoulder and he cried out.

"Merlin! Hang on!"

The panic in Arthur's voice finally drew his eyes upward and he wondered, vaguely, what exactly the king expected him to be hanging on to. The battle seemed hazy, somehow, and everything appeared to tilt at odd angles. He searched the skirmishes and caught a shock of blonde hair in a knot of red capes and flashing swords. Arthur's eyes found him for a split second before he was forced to turn his attention elsewhere. Merlin kept looking and managed to find Branwen in the chaos. She seemed to be holding her own, but there were three men sneaking up on her blind side. He tried to call out to her, but couldn't seem to find the required words through the pain and growing lethargy.

Suddenly, to his immense relief, Percival was there at her side, dispatching the three with one swing of his sword, and leaving Branwen gaping at him.

That seemed to be the final straw for the attackers. As one, they turned tail and fled.

The figure in the shadows, however, remained.

Merlin tried to focus on the worried voices that were hurrying in his direction, but they sounded muddled. The air seemed too thick to breathe properly and his vision was beginning to darken around the edges.

Branwen, at a dead run, was the first to reach him. Careful to avoid the arrow's shaft, she reached up and cupped Merlin's face. "Merlin?"

His eyes found her briefly before sliding away. Arthur skidded to a stop next to them, followed by the rest of the knights. "Merlin?" he asked, "Can you hear me?" Merlin's only response was to drop his head back against the tree with a groan.

Leon asked, "What's wrong with him? That shouldn't be a mortal wound."

Arthur shook his head, mystified.

Branwen leaned in to examine the arrow. Her eyebrows drew together as she saw something on the shaft, just before it disappeared into Merlin. She dug in the pouch at her waist and drew out a piece of the bracelet, holding it near the arrow for comparison.

Arthur leaned over her shoulder, squinting. "Are those are the same markings?"

She nodded.

"But he doesn't have the same symptoms."

"No, the spell is different, but it was cast by the same person, I'm sure of it."

"Can you reverse it?"

She nodded again. "I just need a little time to work out the adjustments."

"Hurry."

"I will."

Merlin caught enough of the conversation to understand what was going on, and with understanding came recognition. He could identify the dark tendrils of the curse, but could do nothing except feel them slowly start to overcome his magic.

It was only a few moments before Branwen turned her attention back to the arrow. She reached toward it and cast the counterspell.

The curse resisted her.

While Merlin knew that Branwen wasn't as powerful as he was, he'd never truly appreciated the power she _did_ have until that moment. The two magics fought like living things, the light chasing the dark around and up the shaft and into his body.

He screamed.

Distantly, he thought he heard her sob, and her magic faltered and dimmed, and the dark swirled around it, circling like a pack of hungry wolves. Then she spoke again, her words low and angry, and the light rallied, growing in strength and, at last, defeating the curse in a surge of brightness.

The effect was immediate. His vision cleared and he could breathe again. The fog dissipated from his mind. His magic was still somewhat sluggish, but he could feel it recovering. He huffed out a sigh of relief.

Then he noticed Branwen staring at him, white as a ghost, tears streaming down her face.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

She only shook her head.

"I don't think she expected you to make that sound." Arthur looked shaken. "I don't think any of us did."

"I can't say as I expected it, either. I feel better, though."

Arthur rubbed his face. "Good. That's good." He hesitated before continuing, "But you know we're not done yet, right?"

Merlin followed his glance to the arrow still embedded in his shoulder. "Oh." He swallowed. "Right."

"We'll do this as quickly as we can."

Merlin nodded, not trusting his voice.

"Wait," Elyan broke in. "Can't one of them just… dissolve it, or something?"

"No, unfortunately," Arthur answered. "This attack is treason. We'll need it as evidence."

Arthur, Leon, and Elyan braced Merlin against the tree, while Gwaine held Branwen, bracing her against what was coming. Percival stood ready to pull the arrow out.

"Pull it as straight as you can," Arthur instructed, getting a nod from the big knight.

Percival grasped the arrow shaft, drawing a strangled sound from Merlin. His muscles bunched and he _yanked_. Merlin screamed again, and Branwen flinched, but the arrow remained stuck fast.

Percival looked shaken, but braced himself to try again, only to see Arthur hold up a hand to stop him. The king ran his hands through his hair. "Okay, men," he announced, stepping away from the tree, "we need options."

The knights gathered around and they began to discuss how to free the warlock. Idea after idea was suggested, debated, and discarded.

Branwen looked up at Merlin. She chewed her lip, eyebrows drawn up in query. He, understanding her unspoken question, nodded. "Do it," he murmured.

She stepped up and held her hand out to the arrow. She closed her eyes and swallowed. A single word, hard and sharp, dropped from her lips and the arrow flew out of the tree, and out of Merlin.

He cried out again, his voice hoarse, and his legs gave way. He slid to the ground with a groan. Then Branwen's hands were on him, soothing and healing. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

He cupped her face and wiped her tears. "Why are you sorry?"

"I hurt you."

"No." He shook his head. "You saved me."

Her face crumpled and he pulled her into his arms, letting her sob into his shirt.

"It did really hurt, though," he ventured after moment, and was rewarded with a sniffly chuckle.

It was then that he noticed Arthur and the knights staring at the pair of them.

Gwaine shrugged. "Or we could just do that."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Okay, I'm going to stop apologizing for the wait. I'll still get the chapters up as quickly as I can, but I'm not posting them until I'm at least 90% happy with them. I was going to post earlier, but I was only about 70% happy. And you guys deserve better than 70%. Because you're all awesome._

It took some convincing for Merlin to assure everyone that he was fine to continue on, but they eventually mounted up again and soon arrived at the first village.

They met with the village headman, who led them to a makeshift hospital. The number of beds there was blessedly few. Merlin had insisted that Branwen teach him the basic counterspell, and together they worked to restore the victims, adding each trinket to their collection.

Next, the headman led them to a barn. The animals inside were quiet and glassy-eyed, but none of them had any kind of focus item.

Branwen put her hands on her hips and frowned. Her eyes roamed over the structure. "There," she said, pointing to something dangling from the rafters. They watched as she positioned herself underneath it. She reached out her hand, but then let it drop.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked.

"I need to be closer." She looked around for something to stand on, then squeaked in surprise as Percival lifted her effortlessly onto his shoulder.

"Will this work?"

The bauble was hanging just within reach and, to Merlin's surprise, she smiled down at the big knight. "Perfect."

The curse was, again, slightly different, and Percival patiently allowed her to perch on him while she figured out the changes that were needed. After she worked the adjusted counterspell and collected the focus, Percival set her gently back on her feet.

The animals began recovering immediately, and the headman led the way to a blighted field.

Merlin found the focus hanging from a scarecrow and Branwen dispatched it. The effect was more subtle, but the field started to green visibly.

By this time, the day was fading into dusk. The grateful inhabitants insisted that Arthur's group spend the night in the village, and the offer was accepted with equal gratitude. The men took the now-vacated building that had been the hospital, and the headman and his wife took Branwen to stay with them.

The next morning, before riding out for the next village, they questioned those who had been affected by the curse. They all mentioned a travelling merchant, someone they'd never seen before. They also said that he'd wrapped their purchases well and persuaded them to not open the parcels until they were home, which gave him time to move out of the area before the curse affected them.

Armed with this new information, they set off.

About an hour from their next stop, they were attacked again. These men were different, though. They were thin and their eyes blazed with desperation. It was obvious to everyone that they were willing to kill to get food and the king and his group had no choice but to defend themselves, despite their reluctance to do lasting harm to starving men.

The battle was quick, with most of the men thankfully deciding on retreat after the first few fell.

Merlin took stock of everyone, looking for any wounds to heal. Everyone seemed little worse for wear, except Branwen. She was standing over the body of one of the attackers, her back to him and her arms clenched tightly over her chest. On closer inspection, Merlin saw that blood was dripping from one of her elbows. He rushed over.

Her eyes were glazed and she was breathing in shaky little gasps. He pulled her arm away from her body and blanched at the deep cut that ran up her inner arm from wrist to elbow.

His healing spell was cast before he was even fully aware of it. The wound closed and Branwen drew a shuddering breath. "Better?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Good. Stay here, I'll be right back."

He was retrieving his water skin to rinse the blood away when he heard Branwen call him. The edge of panic in her voice had him back at her side in an instant.

The wound had reopened.

His brow furrowed. Healing magic was really more Gaius' specialty, but Merlin had gotten better at it with practice. The spell should've held. He cast another.

The wound closed, and he watched it carefully. All seemed well, but just about the time he decided the spell had worked, her skin split open again.

"Merlin," she whispered, and his eyes met hers, wide with fear. "His dagger."

By now the knights had gathered around and he left her propped up against Gwaine while he hurried to retrieve the weapon from the fallen man. He was careful to not touch the blade, which bore familiar markings.

He turned back, casting the counterspell she had taught him, hoping it would work.

It didn't.

She was losing an alarming amount of blood. Her knees buckled, but Gwaine caught her and lowered her gently to the ground. Merlin knelt by her side.

"Branwen."

Her eyes found him, but she seemed to be having trouble focusing. He hoped she could still understand him.

"Branwen, the counterspell isn't working."

She blinked and gave a vague nod. She held out her good hand for the dagger and he gave it to her. She studied the blade for a moment, but then her mind seemed to wander.

"Branwen," he said, capturing her attention. "_Please_."

The raw fear in his voice seemed to ground her somewhat, and she again considered the blade. Her eyebrows drew together, then she took a deep breath.

The incantation's delivery was quiet and shaky, and she paused a few times as if she'd lost her place. When she finished, there was no flash of power. Her head fell back against Gwaine's chest and her eyes slipped closed. The knight jostled her gently. "Come on, Mouse. Stay with us."

Her eyes opened again, to Merlin's immense relief. "I think I've got it," he told her, having listened to the spell as she cast it, and recognizing the differences to the spell he already knew. He recited the incantation back to her with his mind.

She nodded.

He cast the spell. The dagger crackled and something seemed to shimmer away on Branwen's skin. He closed the cut once more and watched, hardly daring to breathe.

The healing held. The relief was palpable.

As Merlin lifted Branwen, Arthur announced, "Alright men. We're done traveling for the day. Find a place to set up camp."

Merlin came up to him, Branwen cradled in his arms. "Thanks, Arthur."

The king squeezed his friend's shoulder. "No need for thanks. I'd have made the same decision were it Guinevere." He shook his head. "She's such a little thing to have lost so much blood. Will she be alright?"

"I think so. I've got something in my pack that should help. The extra rest will work wonders, too, I'm sure."

"Well, working wonders is certainly your stock in trade, so I don't doubt that she'll make a full recovery."

The knights found a suitable campsite well away from the site of the battle. A large fallen tree blocked the view from the road and provided some shelter from the chilly breeze that was building.

Merlin propped Branwen against the log, then settled beside her and covered them both with his cloak. She snuggled against him and they watched the knights gather wood and start dinner. One of the knights brought his medicine bag and water skin and he mixed up a tisane that Branwen wrinkled her nose at, but drank down. He made sure she ate and kept urging her to drink water before she fell asleep.

The next morning, she was more or less steady on her feet and her cheeks had regained some color. But her face went so ghostly white when she mounted her horse that Merlin immediately got up behind her, afraid that she might topple off.

Arthur, having noted this, set a leisurely pace, for which Merlin was grateful, and there was a general sigh of relief when they reached the next village without further incident.

Here they found the situation to be very similar to what they'd seen before. The process they followed to remedy it was nearly identical, the only difference being that Branwen gave Merlin the counterspells and he cast them, so as not to put undue strain on her.

That night, they again accepted the hospitality of the villagers and they settled into different houses. Merlin, still concerned about Branwen, instructed her hostess to come and fetch him immediately if her health should seem to deteriorate in any way. The woman assured him she would.

He was awakened just before dawn by an urgent knocking on his host's door, accompanied by shouts of, "My Lord Sorcerer!"

He threw open the door to find the woman on the doorstep, crying.

Merlin fought down a surge of icy panic rising in his chest. "What's wrong?"

"Your girl, m'lord. She's… she's gone. I'm so sorry!" She dissolved into tears.

Merlin's heart dropped, and he stared at the woman in disbelief. Branwen had seemed tired the previous evening, but that was normal. Certainly not life-threatening.

The woman had started talking again and he struggled to focus on her words.

"… took her. I found this on her bed." She held a piece of parchment out to him.

Her words finally registered and his knees nearly buckled in relief. He took the paper with trembling hands.

The woman's shouts had drawn both knights and villagers out of their various houses. The king was the first at Merlin's side, and one look at his face had Arthur on high alert. "What's happened?" When he didn't get a response, he put and hand on his friend's shoulder, ducking his head to make eye contact. "Merlin?"

"Branwen's been taken."

A murmur swept through the gathering crowd.

"By whom?"

The warlock shook his head. "I don't know. But they left this." He showed the parchment to Arthur.

"A map." He studied it, then pointed. "And she's supposed to be there?"

Merlin nodded.

Leon spoke. "Sire, it must be a trap."

"Undoubtedly."

Merlin's relief was quickly reverting back to panic. He felt trapped and powerless, his mind racing, imagining all of the worst possible scenarios. He couldn't stand the thought of losing someone else he loved. Not again. _Please_, not again. But it was obviously a trap. He couldn't ask Arthur or the knights to put themselves in harm's way. But _Branwen_. He needed to _think_, but his brain refused to engage in any useful way.

He was fraying apart under Arthur's very eyes. The king reached up and took Merlin's face in his hands, waiting until the warlock's eyes found his before speaking. "We're going to go get her. We're going to bring her back." His words were quiet, but there was steel behind them. He raised his eyebrows, waiting until Merlin nodded before continuing, "But if we're going to do that, you can't. Be. A girl."

He waited. Merlin blinked, then blinked again. Arthur felt him relax.

"Then _you_ can't be a prat." The familiar exchange was a lifeline and Merlin latched onto it with everything he had.

Arthur nodded in approval. "That's better."

"Or a dollop-head." He felt steadier.

"Merlin…"

"Or a clotpole." The anxiety was draining out of him. He could think.

Arthur's thumb moved to cover Merlin's lips. "It's time to shut up now."

The smile that appeared behind his thumb was little more than a ghost of itself, but it reassured him that Merlin would be alright.

"Ready the horses!" he commanded.


	7. Chapter 7

The men were ready to ride out as soon as it was light enough to see.

Merlin studied the map. It was simple and straightforward: from the village, follow the creek upstream, turn left at the oddly-shaped boulder, and continue until you arrive.

They set a brisk pace and by mid-morning came to the dwelling, which was snugged up against the base of a cliff.

There was a woman waiting for them, tall and willowy with a cascade of fiery hair that fell to her waist. The men dismounted, the knights drawing their swords.

Arthur and Merlin exchanged glances and Arthur nodded, ceding control of the situation to the warlock.

Merlin addressed the woman. "Who are you?"

"My name is Brisane."

"Are you the one who took Branwen?"

She smiled. "I am."

"Return her to us immediately. If you've hurt her…"

The woman held up a hand. "Your little sorceress is unharmed, I assure you. Won't you come in? I'd prefer to negotiate the terms of her release inside." She turned and went through the door of her ramshackle cottage. It sat so close to the cliff that Merlin was sure they wouldn't all fit inside.

Upon entering, though, his discovered that the cottage was little more than a façade and the living space inside extended far into the cliff face in a system of caves.

Brisane waited until all the men had filed in. "Now," she began, but stopped when Merlin held up his hand, mimicking her earlier gesture.

"There will be no negotiations until I see that Branwen is alright."

She gave him a calculating look, then shrugged. "As you wish."

She disappeared into a side room and returned, holding a length of silver chain that glinted oddly in the torchlight. The other end was wrapped around Branwen's wrists.

Merlin recognized the chain. It was the same type Morgause had used on him. From the way the chain was biting into Branwen's skin, it was apparent she'd already tried to free herself, and failed.

"Are you alright?"

Her eyes met his, and the defeat in them make his anger flare. She nodded reluctantly, her gaze falling away from him.

"Whatever you ask, if I possess it, it will be yours. Just let her go."

Brisane laughed. The sound was deep and rich and somehow ominous in its pleasantness. "My dear sorcerer, I do not want anything that you possess. What I desire is something you can obtain for me. And you should have no trouble at all, since my little lures have attracted men so…" her eyes raked appreciatively over the knights, "_robust_."

It took a moment for her words to fully register.

"Wait. _You_ were the one selling all those cursed things?"

"Oh, yes," she purred.

"And the arrow?"

"Yes. I made that especially for you. Did you like it?"

"The dagger?"

"A happy accident, as informative as it was."

"What about the tinker?"

"A simple glamour." She seemed to be losing patience with the direction the conversation had taken. "Now, back to what I need from you. Deep within this mountain is a sacred cavern. Within that cavern is a bowl. You will bring me that bowl."

"And then you'll release Branwen?"

"You misunderstand. Your little witch will be going with you. You see, the caverns are home to a nest of attercroppes – serpent fairies," she clarified at their confused looks "and she alone will be able to see them."

"Now, before you get any ideas about taking her and simply leaving, I want to assure you that I have a guarantee against that."

She produced a short length of the enchanted chain. Set among the links was a pale, opalescent stone. She fastened the chain snugly around Branwen's neck.

"You see, my little trinkets served a dual purpose. One, as I said before, was to lure you here. The other was to see the extent of this girl's powers, so I would know how strong I needed to make the enchantment on this chain. The stone will allow me to monitor your progress and communicate with you as needed. If any attempt is made to either remove the chain or abandon the task, or if I should die, the chain will tighten and she will strangle."

She released the silver bindings from Branwen's wrists and shoved her toward Merlin, who caught her as she stumbled. He glared at Brisane, barely reining in a murderous surge of magic.

She returned his look with a sugary smile. "This way, if you please."

They followed her through a series of corridors leading deeper into the mountain, and they stopped at a thick wooden door. Brisane produced a key and unlocked it, drawing it open on creaking hinges. On the other side was a tunnel that disappeared into darkness.

They filed in and Brisane started to close the door.

"Wait," Arthur said, and she paused. "How are we to find this cavern?"

Brisane nodded at Branwen. "She'll lead you to it."

Merlin only had a brief glimpse of Branwen's startled face before the door closed, engulfing them in darkness.

The lock clicked with an ominous finality.

Merlin and Branwen each conjured a witch-light, so that the tunnel was lit by a pair of glowing blue orbs that hovered above. Branwen took the lead as they started down the tunnel.

Merlin caught Arthur studying the lights. "Look familiar?"

"Yes. There was a similar light in the cave with the mortaeus flower."

Merlin's eyebrows rose and the corner of his mouth quirked up as he waited for Arthur to put it all together.

"Wait. That was _you_?"

Merlin grinned in answer.

"But… but how…"

"I have no idea. I'm glad it worked, though."

Arthur gave him a soft smile. "Me, too."

They slowed as they came to a fork in the tunnel. The path to the right was level and straight. The one to the left wound down into darkness. Branwen stood, looking down each path in turn. She seemed conflicted.

Merlin went up to her. "Do you know which way to go?"

"I think so." She hesitated, then started down the right-hand path. She'd only gone a handful of steps before she hurriedly backtracked.

"That's what I thought," she mumbled before heading down the left-hand tunnel. "This way."

Merlin stopped her with a hand on her arm and drew her close. He touched her neck where the chain had bit into her skin. "You went the wrong way on purpose."

"I had to see if she was bluffing."

"And she wasn't."

"No."

He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Don't do that again." He softened the reprimand with a kiss on her forehead before they continued.

After what seemed like hours, they came to a cave that had a stream of fresh water running through it. They took the opportunity to fill the water skins and rest a bit.

Branwen waited until no one was looking in their direction, then dragged Merlin away, pulling him behind a small outcropping. Once away from curious eyes, she surprised him by yanking his head down and kissing him.

Aggressively.

His eyes widened in shock before slipping closed. He hummed appreciatively.

'_What brought this on?'_

'_I needed to distract your mouth.'_

'_Mm. Yes. Well done.'_

She nipped at him. _'Listen! I don't think Brisane knows we can talk like this and I don't want to raise her suspicions.'_

'_Mm. Suspicions. Right.' _His fingers tangled themselves in her hair.

'_So you CANNOT react to what I'm about to tell you.'_

'_Mm.' _To be honest, he was having trouble paying attention to anything except taking full advantage of this unexpected situation.

'_I'm going to try to break the spell on the chain.'_

_That_ got through. He stopped, memories flooding back: the tightness, the bruising, the helplessness. The fear.

'_No! No no no!' _She attacked his mouth again, sliding her fingers along the back of his neck. _'KISS ME!'_

He complied, but his thoughts were spinning. He hands moved down and gripped her arms hard in panic. _'You can't! You'll die!'_

'_Not if I get it just right. I know I can do it. We'll have the element of surprise and-'_

'_No.'_

'_What?'_

'_I won't have you risking your life on this.'_ His kisses became tender. _'I can't lose you.'_

'_But-'_

'_No.'_

A quiet cough drew their attention. They disengaged to find Arthur standing there, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "We should probably get moving."

"Right. Be there in a moment."

Arthur nodded and left, revealing Gwaine behind him, grinning ear to ear. He gave them a double thumbs-up before following the king.

Merlin looked down, noting that the blue glow of the witch-light couldn't disguise the blush that had bloomed across Branwen's cheeks. He laughed, then kissed her on the nose. "Come on, then," he told her.

They continued, winding so far into and under the mountain that Merlin was sure they'd reach the center of the earth before long.

Branwen held up a hand as they approached a cross-tunnel and they came to a stop behind her. She seemed to be listening. She motioned them back behind her and she hugged the corner, peering cautiously around.

Her head snapped back and she held a finger to her lips. They could hear a strange scuffling sound.

'_What is it?'_

'_Attercroppes.'_

Just then, one of the knights repeated Merlin's question in a hiss that was no doubt meant to be quiet, but that echoed off the walls.

Branwen threw a panicked glance back at them before launching herself into the open and throwing a spell into the cross-tunnel. Suddenly about a dozen snake-like bodies fell to the ground out of thin air and she turned and attacked again. Another collection of bodies materialized. She spun and overbalanced, casting another spell toward her feet as she fell back, resulting in another pile of bodies where she had been standing.

She scrambled into an alert crouch, panting and listening, for several long heartbeats before she visibly relaxed, flopping back onto the ground. "That's all of them, for now."

Merlin went to her, frustrated that he had been unable to help. "Are you alright?"

"Just tired," she smiled.

The men approached to curiously examine the attercroppes. The creatures were about a foot tall, their serpentine bodies sprouting incongruously humanoid arms and legs.

Gwaine was holding one, turning it this way and that, squinting. "Look at the fangs!"

Leon, satisfied with simply pushing one aside with his boot, said, "They're grotesque."

Suddenly, Branwen's head jerked up and she stared intently down the side tunnel. "We need to go."

They hurried on their way, listening to the scuffling that grew gradually louder behind them. They knew immediately when the bodies had been found from the angry hissing.

They quickened their pace, but it was soon apparent that the enemy was in pursuit, and gaining.

"This is no good," Arthur panted. "We need a plan."

"It would help if we could see them." Merlin answered.

"Can't you do something with your magic?"

"Not very effectively, unless I seal the tunnel altogether and cut off our own exit." He turned to Branwen. "Any ideas, love?"

She shook her head. "I don't know what it is that allows me to see them, but not you. I could cast something on _them_, but I'm not sure I would affect them all. Unless…" She chewed her lip as she thought, and took a sudden interest in the walls.

She stopped abruptly. "Keep going," she instructed, waving the men away. They all obeyed, except Merlin.

"Got an idea?"

"I think so." She placed her hands on the wall and, with a few words, a section of the rock dissolved into powder. The hole that was left was just big enough for her to stand in. Then she lowered her witch-light into the pile of dust, which turned a luminous blue. "When they come by, I'll coat them with the dust. It should stick to them, then you'll kill anything that glows. This should be enough to cover the majority of them and I can pick off any that are missed."

"But you'll need to stay behind."

She indicated the hole. "That's what this is for."

He shook his head. "I'm not leaving you."

"Merlin, there isn't time! Swords aren't going to be very effective against these things. You have to protect Arthur."

He couldn't argue.

"You don't have to go far," she reassured him, "but they're coming."

He nodded and gave her a quick, desperate kiss. "Be safe."

"You, too."

She tucked herself into her hiding place and he sprinted to where Arthur and the knights had stopped to wait for him.

"What's the plan?" Arthur asked.

Merlin repeated Branwen's instructions. "Kill anything that glows." He sent his witch-light to the ceiling before adding, "I'll take care of as many as I can. You'll have to clean up what I miss."

"Right."

They arrayed themselves along the passage, then directed their attention toward Branwen's hiding place.

They waited.

Then they saw it – a cloud of glowing blue dust hovering just off of the ground. The attercroppes burst through it, giving the men clear targets.

Merlin dropped the first wave with a surge of fire, but more were close behind and the battle was on. He sent a second fireball down the passage, but he'd lost the element of surprise and a good number of the creatures dodged it. He tried a flash of lightning and was pleased when the power arced from body to body.

Behind him, the knights were swiping and hacking at the enemy with only partial effectiveness, not used to fighting an enemy that stood only a foot tall.

The air was filled with the angry hissing of the attercroppes, the grunts and occasional curses of the men, and, after the glowing dust cloud at last dissipated, the incantations of Branwen.

After what seemed an eternity, the tunnel was quiet apart from labored breathing. Branwen staggered up and she and Merlin took stock. All of them had suffered multiple bites and they were starting to feel the effects of the venom. Branwen was able to create a spell to counteract it, and she and Merlin administered it, but there was little they could do about the resulting weakness and fatigue.

Merlin was particularly concerned about Branwen, knowing she hadn't had enough time to recover fully from the dagger wound. She was looking pale and shaky again and he insisted that the group take a few minutes to rest and regroup.

Branwen had just settled gratefully against the wall when she gasped. The stone at her throat glowed, and her eyes rolled back in her head before fluttering closed. When she opened them again, they were the same color as the stone, wide and unseeing.

"Oh, well done! Well done, indeed!" Brisane's voice purred out of her mouth. "You've survived longer than anyone else I've sent down there. I'm so very pleased!"

"Say what you've come to say and get out," Merlin growled.

"Mm. So authoritative. But as you like. You're close. _Very_ close. When you find the bowl, it will be overturned. Do _not_ right it. Keep it inverted, bring it to me, and you will be free to go."

The stone winked out. Branwen's eyes closed and she slumped against the wall. Merlin crouched next to her.

"Branwen?"

She shook her head a little and opened her eyes, blinking away the last of the opalescence. She wrinkled her nose at Merlin. "Well, _that_ was altogether unpleasant."

"Are you alright?"

"Hm. That does seem to be the question of the day, doesn't it?" She patted his cheek. "I think… maybe." She nodded to herself. "Definitely maybe." At his worried look, she added, "Which is better than positively not."

He quirked a half-smile and settled next to her with an arm around her shoulders. "Well, you just rest for now."

"Yes, sir." She snuggled against him and was soon asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

The rest following the attercroppe attack was not nearly long enough, but they pressed on, alert for the sounds of pursuit.

Despite Brisane's words, the tunnel seemed to continue on forever.

Suddenly, Branwen stopped, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. She turned and looked the way they'd come, then backtracked, the men following in an obedient herd.

She stopped and turned again and appeared to be listening. She backtracked again, slowly this time, dragging her fingers along the side of the tunnel.

She stopped again and placed both hands on the wall. "It's behind here."

"Stand back," Merlin instructed. When everyone had given him sufficient room, he held out a hand and blasted a hole into the chamber beyond.

He stepped out of the resulting flow of stagnant air, then they all cast concerned glances at the ceiling as the concussion rumbled up through the rock.

"Is the mountain _supposed_ to make that sound?" Gwaine asked.

"Not… ideally. I think we might want to hurry." Merlin glanced at Branwen just in time to see the stone activate again.

"What was that? What are you doing?"

"Just making a door, Brisane. Now, if you don't mind…"

She gave an irritated huff and the stone went dark, leaving Branwen swaying. Merlin put a steadying arm around her.

"I _really_ wish she'd stop doing that. Makes me feel…" she shuddered.

Merlin gave her a sympathetic squeeze.

He sent his magic into the chamber to freshen up the air and they entered.

The space was large and empty except for a pedestal near the far wall, on which rested the overturned bowl. They approached it cautiously. It was large, nearly two feet across at the rim, and covered with runes.

"Any idea what they say, Merlin?" Arthur asked.

"No, I've never seen anything like them."

"I know what this is." Every eye turned to Branwen. She explained, "Overturned bowls have been used to trap evil spirits for ages. According to these markings, this particular bowl contains," she examined the runes, then swallowed hard. "Lilith." At their blank stares, she elaborated, "The queen of all demons."

They exchanged worried glances.

"What could she want with the demon queen?" Arthur asked.

Merlin shook his head. "Nothing good."

Branwen was backing away from the bowl. She shook her head in disbelief and seemed to speak more to herself than them. "Brisane must think she can control her, but she can't. No one can. Taking this bowl to her will unleash unspeakable evil on the world. Worse than the Doracha." She was becoming agitated, pacing as she spoke. "This can't happen. So many will die. I won't let this happen." She startled all of them by shouting, "Do you hear me, Brisane?! I WILL NOT ALLOW THIS!"

Before the words died away, her eyes lost focus and she began an incantation.

"Branwen! NO!"

She ignored Merlin and kept speaking. The stone in the chain glowed, then faded, the fluctuation echoed in her eyes. There was a _chink_ and the chain tightened. Branwen's voice wavered, but her spell didn't falter.

The chain _chinked_ again, and again, until she could barely force the words out. Then her eyes blazed golden, overpowering the paleness from the stone. The chain dropped to the ground and Branwen followed, coughing hard.

Merlin was immediately at her side, his magic soothing her abused throat, Arthur and the knights surrounding them in concern.

Merlin was just helping Branwen back to her feet when the mountain shook. He threw up his hand, magic deflecting the stones that fell from the ceiling.

"Merlin."

Arthur's call drew his attention and he followed the king's gaze to the pedestal. He watched in horror as the bowl vibrated toward the edge. Time seemed to slow as it tipped off, rotating gently in the air to land upright, and miraculously unbroken, on the cavern floor.

They all scrambled back as a billow of smoke roiled up, resolving itself into the shape of a woman, unnaturally tall, wings sprouting from her back, and legs more bird than human. She had the piercing eyes and sharp, quick movements of a raptor.

"You have freed me." Her mouth didn't move, but her deep voice rumbled through the cavern. "Your reward shall be death."

She threw out a blast of power and seemed surprised when Merlin countered it. Her head swiveled to focus on him.

"You challenge me?"

Merlin took several quick paces, putting distance between himself and his friends, and answered with a fireball.

Lilith blocked it and returned a spell that knocked the warlock on his back.

He hauled himself back to his feet, vaguely registering his name in Arthur's panicked voice. He glanced at him, and saw that Branwen was holding the king back, telling him something. He seemed to be listening to her, and Merlin was relieved when he, followed by the knights, moved away from him, toward the bowl.

He needed to keep Lilith from noticing them, so he launched another spell at her.

'_What did you tell them?'_

'_That they need to put the bowl back over Lilith.'_

He nodded. _'I'll distract her as long as I can.'_

He dodged another blast and aimed one of his own into the space between Lilith and the bowl, forcing her to step away from it. He kept up his assault, widening the gap more and more, until Lilith aimed an attack at the ceiling, raining rocks down on him. He ducked, covering his head.

When he looked up again, he saw that Percival, the only knight tall enough to reach above Lilith's head, had the bowl and was working his way behind the demon queen.

Then a blast hit Merlin square in the chest and knocked him back.

He was lying there, stunned, trying to remember how to breathe, when Branwen was suddenly standing over him, blocking another attack. Seeing her put herself in harm's way gave him the motivation to regain his feet.

Then he saw Percival tip the bowl over onto Lilith's head and watched as the runes blazed with a golden light. He felt a surge of triumph.

Lilith shrieked, but, apart from that, it seemed to have very little effect on her. She turned her attention to the men, briefly, before Merlin attacked again, drawing her eyes back to him.

'_Merlin, can you manage a sustained attack?'_

He considered. He'd never had to fight so hard, for so long, with so much of his magic. He was approaching exhaustion.

'_I think so, but not for very long.'_

'_I won't need very long.'_

Merlin cast again and white-hot light forked toward Lilith. He was wondering what Branwen had planned when he felt her arms wrap around his waist. He felt, rather than heard, her incant a spell against his back.

Suddenly, the power of his magic increased dramatically, and he nearly lost control of it. The lightning's blue-white light became tinged with purple as Branwen's spell piggybacked onto his own.

Lilith shrieked again as her form lost some of its solidity. She fought back, but the combined spells, along with the bowl glowing over her head, seemed to be distracting her and her next attack went wide.

Merlin gritted his teeth against the power blazing out of him, unsure how much longer he could maintain control. He could feel Branwen's arms begin to tremble around him.

But slowly, so agonizingly slowly, Lilith's shape blurred and faded and shrank. At last, the bowl reached the ground and the runes faded, leaving the cavern in silence.

Merlin felt Branwen's arms slip off of him and heard her hit the ground. He was turning toward her when his own knees buckled. His head swam and he fought the darkness that was creeping into his vision. He thought he saw Branwen take a breath, but he was having trouble focusing properly.

Then there were arms scooping her up, and hands helping him to his feet and supporting him as they left the cavern. The last thing he registered was the earth quaking violently as they raced back down the tunnel.

Merlin came to gradually, rising toward consciousness just enough that vague impressions of his surroundings registered, before he sank back into darkness. Each time he rose, the impressions became clearer and the subsequent unconsciousness shorter, until he finally opened his eyes, blinking at the unfamiliar room. Looking around, his eyes landed on a familiar shock of blonde hair.

"Arthur?" It was barely more than a whisper, but the king heard and turned to him, relief written on his face.

"I swear, Merlin, I thought you were lazy when you were my servant."

Merlin grinned. "The promotion does have its perks," he rasped.

"So it would seem." Arthur offered a cup of water and helped Merlin sit up, watching carefully as he gulped it down.

When the warlock spoke again, his voice was much clearer. "Where are we?"

"Brisane's."

With the name, memories flooded in: the tunnels, the cavern, Lilith.

"Where's Branwen?"

Arthur dipped his chin and looked past Merlin, who followed his gaze to discover her lying in the next bed. He threw off his blanket and stumbled across the space to her side.

He touched her face, finding it cool and not feverish, as he had feared. "Branwen?"

Her eyelids fluttered and rose. She blinked a few times, slowly, before her eyes found his face. "Merlin." She gave him a bleary smile.

"How are you?" he asked.

"M'fine. Just tired. You?"

He smiled. "Exhausted."

"Yes, yes," Arthur interjected. "You're both very tired. Now rest up so we can get home." He helped Merlin to his feet, but the warlock refused to get back into his bed until it had been snugged up next to Branwen's. Once he was satisfied that she was within easy reach, he allowed Arthur to settle him back under the blanket. He was on the verge of nodding off when an urgent question presented itself.

"Arthur."

"What _now_, Merlin?"

"Where's Brisane?"

"Dead."

"How?"

Arthur shrugged. "No idea. We found her body with not a mark on it. I think Branwen may have done it when she broke the spell on the chain. That's my guess, anyway."

"Ah." Merlin looked over at the sleeping girl. "She's pretty handy to have around, yeah?"

"You both are. Now sleep. That's an order."

Merlin gladly complied.


	9. Chapter 9

The journey back to Camelot was made in no great haste, to ensure that Merlin and Branwen could fully recover. Along the way, the warlock had time to think. By the time they reached the castle, he'd made a decision.

A few days later, he was leading Branwen deep into the forest.

"Merlin, where are you taking me?"

"You'll see."

When they stepped out of the trees and into view of the Lake of Avalon, she gasped. "It's beautiful!"

He gave her a small smile before his face became serious again. "There's something I need to tell you." He took a deep breath and continued, "A long time ago, I was in love with someone. Another druid. We were going to leave Camelot together."

"What happened?"

"She died."

"I'm so sorry."

"I brought her body here and gave it to the lake. She's its guardian now."

They both gazed solemnly over the water for a few moments before Branwen asked, "What was her name?"

"Freya."

Her head snapped around and she stared, incredulous, at him. "Dark hair? Brown eyes? A little older than me?"

It was Merlin's turn to look incredulous. "You _knew_ her?"

"Maybe. Or at least someone very like her."

He thought a moment, remembering something the dragon had done with him long ago. "Close your eyes and open your mind," he told her. He placed his fingers at her temples and felt her mind open to him. He allowed his memories of Freya to flow into her, from finding her in the bounty hunter's cage until her death, in her cursed form, at the hands of Arthur, to the journey to the lake and the fiery raft, to the keeping and return of Excalibur. He held nothing back and it felt so good to finally, fully share his wonder, love, and heartbreak with someone.

Then, to his surprise, memories of a younger Freya flooded his mind from Branwen. He saw two girls, inseparable and alike enough to be sisters, playing in a field on the outskirts of a druid village. He saw Uther's men come, heard their shouts and the screams of the villagers, felt Freya's iron grip as she dragged Branwen, sobbing, to a small cottage well-hidden in the forest. He felt Branwen's own heartbreak as her best friend left to try to help the others, her despair when she never returned.

Then the memories shifted and Merlin had the impression that Branwen was piecing together what she remembered with what she'd just learned from him.

He was in a small house, little more than a hovel, the claustrophobic space dominated by the bulk of Branwen's captor. There was a strange noise outside and the girl's eyes went to the window to find a large, feline head snarling in. In the memory, Merlin could see that the beast's attention was on the man, rather than the girl, but he also felt Branwen's blind panic, which caused her to miss this vital detail. She scrambled back with a cry, drawing the man's attention. She pointed, the man bellowed, and the creature bolted. The man then left, muttering about knowing someone who could "take care of it".

There was a surge of grief from now-Branwen as she realized that there may still have been enough of Freya in the creature at that point that she was still trying to protect her. And that Branwen herself had set in motion the events that led to her capture.

Merlin disengaged and held Branwen's face in his hands, wiping away the tears. "You can't think that way. Anyone could've alerted the bounty hunter. It wasn't your fault."

She nodded. "Thank you for taking care of her."

"I only wish I could've done more."

They stood awhile, lost in each other's memories, before Branwen stepped away. "I'll be right back."

He watched as she kicked off her shoes and waded out into the water.

"Freya!" she called, "It's me, Branwen! I'm sorry!" Her voice quieted and wavered. "I'm so sorry. You saved me from Uther's men, and I couldn't save you from your curse." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "I'm glad, though, that you found someone to take care of you, to love you, in the end." She shook her head and smiled. "Leave it to us, Freya, to fall in love with the same man. We were always liking the same things, weren't we? But," her lip trembled and a tear slid down her cheek, "but if you would rather not share him, I will respect your wishes. You deserve that."

At this, Merlin yanked off his boots and waded out to stand beside her. She clutched at him as the water began to swirl around them. When it subsided, he noticed something glinting on the bottom. He reached down and retrieved it, swishing it a bit to remove the clinging sediment.

When he opened his hand, he found a pair of gold rings tied together with a blade of water grass. He closed his eyes in relief, the last, faint vestiges of guilt finally assuaged.

He showed the rings to Branwen and she touched one gently, as if not fully believing they were real. "Thank you Freya," she whispered.

He caught her hand. "Branwen, you once said that I am just as much a king as Arthur, so I must ask," he took a breath, "would you do me the great honor of being my queen?"

She gave him a watery smile, nodding vigorously, and threw her arms around him.

He held her, then kissed her as the water swirled joyfully around them.

_A/N: Thank you all so much for coming on this little adventure with me. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did._

_And kudos to MerlinMorgana1579 (and anyone else who just didn't mention it) for figuring out the title. A merlin is a kind of falcon and Branwen is a Welsh name meaning "beautiful raven"._

_I did have some other plot ideas that didn't make it into this story, so I may be revisiting our lovebirds *wink* at some point in the future._

_Until then, my lovely readers…_


End file.
